


American Dream

by Ramtops_Witch



Category: Captain America, Marvel
Genre: Angst, Collars, D/s, F/M, Family, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-02
Updated: 2011-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:58:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramtops_Witch/pseuds/Ramtops_Witch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve manages to make his date after all</p>
            </blockquote>





	American Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skellerbvvt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skellerbvvt/gifts).



Steve really wanted his shield. He knew it really didn’t go with his dress uniform, and weddings really weren’t the most appropriate place for it, but he felt like it would make him less nervous.

“Relax,” Bucky said, clapping him on the shoulder in what he assumed to be a manly, reassuring manner. “She agreed to marry you didn’t she? Even after you broke her foot with your excuse for dancing.”

“But. But what if I break more than her foot? You know, after.”

“Just…take it slow.”

“And have another drink,” Howard put in, because he was a good influence like that.

“I can’t actually get drunk,” Steve reminded him.

“All for the good, I hear it plays hell on the wedding night.”

“Really?” Steve focused in on Howard as the purveyor of all knowledge that good boys shouldn’t know and also the mysteries of fondue.

“Is there anything else I shouldn’t do?”

“Well.” Howard seemed to think for one, slow moment. “The most important thing is to make sure she’s enjoying herself too. Go slow and careful, she’ll tell you to speed up when she’s ready. And if you fuck up and come before she does there’s always cunnilingus.”

“Cunning what?”

“Never mind,” Bucky interrupted, “not important, fix your tie. It’s almost time.”

“Aren’t there some evil genius megalomaniacs I could fight instead?” Steve asked plaintively.

“Sure. Go ahead. I’ll just marry Peggy for you.” Offered Buck.

“Oh no you won’t. Get out of my way, I have a woman to marry.” Steve strode purposefully into the church, the soldiers who worked with him, scattered in the pews of the church, would recognize this stride. Bucky followed him quickly, less because he cared about being late, but more because he wanted to be able to catch Steve if he collapsed from nerves. Howard sauntered out and over towards the bar. Where he would later meet the future Mrs. Stark, poor woman.

The music began with an excited fanfare, and Peggy entered, stunning and ethereal in her long white gown. For some reason, Steve had half expected her to be in uniform, sharp and beautiful like a blade, not soft and glowing like a goddess.

***  
After the vows and the reception and the dancing where Steve managed not to crush Peggy’s feet through careful maneuvering and resorting to having Peggy just wrap her arms around him and be carried through the difficult dances, Steve carried Peggy to their new car (a wedding present from Howard Stark, who had apologized that it wasn’t reliable for flying at the moment but that he’d fix that as soon as he got a chance), and they headed off on their honeymoon.

“Are you going to put me down at any point?” Peggy finally asked, rather archly.

“Maaaybe.”

“Is that a no?”

“I’ll put you down if you like, I just….like carrying you.”

“Because you can now?”

“Partly.”

“And the other reason?”

“No one can steal you if I’m carrying you.” Peggy gave him a look. “I didn’t say it was a sensible reason!” Steve defended himself.

“Captain America ladies and gentlemen.”

“Are you going to make fun of me our whole marriage?”

“Probably.”

“Well, Mrs. Rogers, I suppose then I just shan’t put you down.” Steve got a little tingling thrill from the fact that he could call her that now, even as he was aware his threat was empty because if Peggy wanted down she’d just force him to put her down, but he was feeling giddy and silly with joy.

“What, you’re going to carry me around for the rest of our marriage?”

“You don’t weigh much and I have superhuman strength and stamina.”

“I’ll eat nothing but ice cream sundaes and cheeseburgers until I weigh three hundred pounds and then where will you be?”

“With a very obese wife that I can still carry around like she weighed no more than a feather but can’t find any dresses for?”

“You’ll need your hands eventually.”

“I can hold you fine with one.” Steve shifted her to demonstrate.

“But Mr. Rogers, however am I going to slip into something more comfortable for our wedding night?”

“You ah—have…ah….” Steve could feel all his blood rushing to his face. Well. Not all of his blood. Some of it least. Peggy was a beautiful dame after all and—well, they were married now. It was okay to be…interested in Peggy’s—in Peggy.

“A little bit of lace and sheer I picked up in France. Honey, I think if you get any redder your face will combust.”

“I think the serum is supposed to protect against spontaneous combustion as well.”

“Good to know. Put me down on the bed.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Now,” Peggy reclined on the bed, looking up at him like he was a slacking recruit. “Want to tell me why you’re shaking in your boots and looking at me like I have a Hydra platoon stuffed down my top. Because I assure you I don’t.”

Steve shuffled his feet, “You, uh remember our first dance?”

“Hard to forget.”

“I broke all your toes! Crushed them and you had to wear that cast and I don’t want to crush you!”

Peggy sat up. “And the next time we danced you did as I said and no one broke anything except possibly a few over excited reporters.”

“So you’re saying—”

“Lie back and listen to Agent Carter, soldier.”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve paused, “Um….Peggy…Howard gave me this…instructional…book.”

“Hmm, I’m sure it was very educational.” Peggy took off her top and Steve forgot how to breathe for a moment, let alone think or speak.

“Uh. And Ithinkyoushouldtiemeup.”

Peggy arched an eyebrow at him.

“Somecouplesfinditenhancestheexperience and then I wouldn’t forget and hurtyou.”

“Breathe honey. You’ll just snap any ropes we use. We’ll have to get—”

“Adamantium enhanced chains, I have some in my pack.”

“Do I get to put a collar on you and make you curl up on my lap and call me Mistress as well?”

Peggy. Peggy wanting to collar him, claim him for all her own. Him.The scrawny boy from Brooklyn that couldn’t get a date if he was actually the last man in the country under sixty and over fifteen. And this beautiful, intelligent, strong, and capable woman wanted to claim him as her own. Steve Rogers, not Captain America, who Steve still thought of as kind of fictional—a propaganda tool—but him.  
“Would you like to? I don’t have—I mean, if you’re joking that’s okay, I can go along with—”

Peggy kissed him. “On your back soldier, arms over your head. You’ll get a collar when you prove to me you can be a good boy.”

“Yes ma’am.” Steve obeyed, and in a bare moment Peggy had the chains clicking around his wrists.

**fade to black**

Their wedding night, other than earning Steve a slick leather collar, managed to get them James, their first child, born almost nine months to the day. They moved into a nice apartment not far from where Steve grew up—although in a nicer neighborhood because they could afford it with Steve’s pension and occasional human rights work as Captain America on top of his job designing advertising for Stark Industries. Peggy took some time off to have James (commonly referred to as ‘Bucky jr.’ or BJ) and then began campaigning to allow females in combat as something other than support. Which she kept up even while pregnant with their second child, Sarah.

  
When BJ was seven it was decided he was old enough for a puppy, with the understanding that Steve would take the bulk of the work. Or, rather, Steve found a puppy while in Korea while trying to help the peace talks along, and couldn’t leave it there to be eaten so he named it Fondue and proffered it to Peggy with the suggestion that a puppy would teach BJ responsibility and besides which it was too tiny and fragile to abandon. Sarah had immediately responded to Peggy’s acceptance by campaigning for a pony, but when her mom convinced her that the pony would be sad in the city with no place to run, accepted a kitten that Steve had saved from a tree. (Steve still didn’t understand why everyone thought this was funny. The poor thing had been stuck up that tree for ages). The cat, christened by Sarah Princess Buttercup Fluffernutter, seemed to think that Steve was her own personal savior and transportation, and could general be found sprawled across him asleep, or riding around on his shoulder. When Steve had to go somewhere she couldn’t come she would generally sulk in his shield, snubbing the friendly overtures of Fondue, who seemed to want desperately for her to like him. Steve did not spoil Princess, no matter what Peggy said. She was just especially tiny and helpless and sort of reminded him of his old self, except for the part where he would probably have lost any fight with the city rats, whereas Princess was their bane, the Great Exterminator of Rodents.

BJ, having inherited his father’s supersoldier physique rather than his former, weak constitution, joined the basketball team and played baseball in the off season to make his father happy. Steve tried to encourage him to follow his dreams and not thrust the burden of his own failed childhood onto BJ in unreasonable expectations, but couldn’t pretend not to be thrilled when BJ brought home trophy after trophy. Sarah did gymnastics and then martial arts because Peggy wanted her to be strong and independent, and Steve wanted her to be able to kick the ass of anyone who bothered his baby girl. BJ excelled in English but was only average in math and science; unlike his sister, who studied with Howard’s genius son, Tony. She later married Tony, to no one’s surprise. Giving Peggy and Steve their first grandchild, which didn’t stop her from being Tony’s best test pilot, and after he was captured by terrorists and built the Iron Man suit, superhero partner, wielding her father’s shield with great aplomb.

BJ became a journalist and then a rather daring war correspondent. On an assignment covering abuse of mutants he met Wanda Maximoff and married her, despite her father’s objections to her marrying a flatscan. BJ convinced Wanda and her brother to join Captain America and Iron Man as one of the world’s best and least controversial superhero teams. BJ then went on to convince his brother-in-law to build him wings so that he wouldn’t have to compete with his sister power wise. When the Norse god Thor appeared on Earth, they invited him to join as well.

Peggy and Steve retired (for the most part, although they ended up temporary co-commanders of SHIELD when Nick Fury was put out of commission by an attack), to spoil their new kitten, Doctor Tinycat (named by their grandson, James Tiberious). Doc naturally grew to be so large that only Steve could carry him comfortably.

Steve was waiting in the hospital room with Peggy and BJ for news about Wanda’s first child (she had banned everyone but her twin on threat of hexing). He looked over at Peggy, excitement clear on her lined, beloved face, and felt a rush all anew; the weight of the leather collar under his turtleneck and the ring around her finger proving still that they belonged to one another, for now and for always. He blinked.

 

  
And he was sprawled over a fancy, overpriced couch, with a masculine hand stroking his hair. Tony by the scent of grease. Wanda was bent over him, looking guilty and not at all pregnant.

“Sorry! Sorry, I was practicing making wish fulfillment hexes for battle—as a distraction—and I didn’t realize you’d come in and hit you with one—”

Too perfect. He should have known, it had all been too perfect.


End file.
